Chapter 1: The Sirens Sing for You

Preface

Heyo! My name is Chris, and I’d like to share my biking journey with you. It’s a bit unorthodox—but so is everyone’s relationship with bikes. That’s what makes each of our particular connections to these mechanical wonders so vastly interesting and important. I hope my story encourages others to reflect on their own stories with bicycles and with the community of Raleigh.

This will be a multi-part story. It’s long. I don’t want to hear any complaining, or we will turn this newsletter around and go home. So grab a snack, relax, and enjoy.

Chapter 1: The Sirens Sing for You

The throbbing began immediately. No delay. My physiological haste was unappreciated and somewhat appalling. I was completely robbed of the few seconds of blissful lapse before the pain set in. If my brain had a front desk, I’d be leaning over it, demanding to speak to a manager. Okay… maybe I wouldn’t. My father would though. That was his personality.

When I go to restaurants and I’m served the wrong order, I rarely say a word. I can rationalize pretty quickly that the place is busy and the server looks stressed. I can tell they’re probably freaking out about their exam on Monday, and last night they got into a big fight with their roommate about the dirty pan left on the burner. They were such good friends before they started living together. The property tax bill for his Volvo just came in the mail too—he didn’t account for that in the budget he made last summer. There go his tips for the weekend. Poof.

My father forgot how to understand the server's plight long ago. Not like me. I’ve been that stressed server. Hell, I am that stressed server.

Rationalizing this new pain, however, was a bit more difficult. Maybe it’ll pass in a few seconds.

In the meantime: carboxylic acids have a carboxyl functional group. Alkanes have a single bond, alkenes a double bond, and alkynes a triple bond.

Alkynes… triple.
Alkynes… triple.
Alkynes… trip—OUCHHHH. WHOA. That particular throb radiating from my left patella was not docile.

I look at my left knee, then my right. Just a couple of fraternal twins at this point. Yeah, their parents dressed them in the same clothes when they were kids, but now they’re adults, and convincing the world they share a birthday—and a mother? Good luck. That’s certainly how my case was shaping up.

I made some adjustments to my corporeal expectations, like an airline adjusting the time of departure. The pain would probably go away in the next few minutes, hopefully.

The organic chemistry exam tomorrow morning is the priority. I need to get back on my bike and hit the books one more time. Yeah, one more session will solidify this. Maybe I’ll throw in another quick study round early in the morning before class too. Hell yeah. Now I just have to get to my bike.

Where is my bike?
Wait… where are my shoes?

Soon, I hear the soft, gentle song of an ambulance.

Alkanes… single.
Alkanes… single.

The pain in my knee continues to radiate, and the swelling becomes overwhelming. Looks like I better find an outlet for my phone charger at the airline gate, because this is going to be a long delay.

The ambulance’s roar grows.

Alkenes… double.
Alkenes… double.

Louder and louder, the ambulance belts its song like a Juilliard-trained opera singer who feels the need to overcompensate at Sunday mass.

Alkynes… triple!
Alkynes… triple!